


We Hold These Truths

by ilyena_sylph



Category: DC Comics
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-21
Updated: 2008-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First in a series, but hopefully entirely acceptable as a stand-alone.<br/>All you really need to know is who Uncle Sam is, though mild familiarity with his incarnations would help.</p>
    </blockquote>





	We Hold These Truths

**Author's Note:**

> First in a series, but hopefully entirely acceptable as a stand-alone.  
> All you really need to know is who Uncle Sam is, though mild familiarity with his incarnations would help.

_The Heartland, 1974_

Practically since the end of the second World War, he'd been dying. Second, when the first had been the 'War to End All Wars'.

Dying slow and painful of an inner rot that seemed as though it had no cure.

And it was the choices made in his name that were killing him.

Dying of loss of obligation to duty and to honor in the people he was to serve.

Choices made to ignore the right path, and take the convenient one were killing him; choices to turn on the promises of equality and liberty he'd been created from to try to preserve a shame already dead.

Choices that chose the path of tyranny, when he _was_ because of men who refused to bow to a tyrant--

He hadn't had the strength to truly manifest since the early days of the post-war boom, since those who had gained power had refused to release it as they ought, found others to paint with the brush of villainy, and that had been allowed.

He'd only been able to watch, choking and failing as his people let corruption and greed and fear blind them to what was happening to them, among them.

There was strength growing in the South again, but those who fought there for their freedom saw him as the force holding them down and barred him from their strength with that same force of will.

He tried, for the boys that believed in him, believed he would be there _beside_ them, and sometimes he almost could, slipping through the deep jungle with the skill of the Minute-Man he had once been to give aid to them for their faith and their oaths, but he had such little strength in this filthy war...

America was falling slowly... and as she fell, Uncle Sam was dying with her.

But he wasn't dead _yet_.

And there were still men and women that believed. As long as there was still one, he might be only a ghost, but he would _be_.

No matter how weak... he would find the way. There was someone that would call to him, that would have the strength of love of country of his first body, and would have the knowing of this new world strong enough for him to understand it. He just had to hold on until that someone was ready.  



End file.
